The Hidden Heart (14 page)

Jessica reached back, and her hand fell on the pitcher beside her washbasin. That seemed a good enough weapon, and she curled her fingers around it. Then she flung open her door, screaming out Gabriela’s name, and charged forward, raising the pitcher above her head to strike the intruder.

The figure at the door whirled around to face her just as she was almost upon him. Instinctively he threw up an arm, and the pitcher Jessica brought down sharply crashed into his wrist. He let out a grunt of pain and staggered backward. Jessica gasped as the water spilled out of the upended pitcher, dowsing her own front.

The intruder shoved away. She hit the table with the back of her legs and fell onto it. The man turned and ran from the room. Jessica was after him in a flash, screaming for help. She could see that he had too much of a head start on her; she would not be able to catch up with him. So she heaved the pitcher after him in a last desperate attempt to stop him, and it hit him with a resounding thunk, then bounced off and shattered on the floor.

The man stumbled but recovered his footing and pounded on down the hall and into the darkness of the back staircase. Jessica started to go after him, but at that moment Gabriela tumbled out of the nursery door, eyes wide with fear, calling Jessica’s name. Jessica turned and went to reassure her instead.

“What is it? What happened?” Gabriela cried.

“I’m not sure. There was—I surprised someone.”

“In the nursery?” Gabriela’s voice vaulted upward, ending on a hysterical note. “Why? Who?’

They heard the pounding of feet, and a moment later Cleybourne burst out of the staircase and ran toward them. He was clad in only his breeches and an unbuttoned shirt, obviously hastily donned. At some distance behind him came Lady Westhampton, wrapped in her dressing gown and carrying a lamp.

“What the devil’s going on?” Cleybourne cried as he reached them.

Jessica turned, saying, “There was an intruder in the nursery. I chased him away. I—”

She broke off abruptly. The duke’s eyes had dropped down to the front of her gown, and he was staring, looking like a man who had just been struck a heavy blow on the head. Jessica remembered in that moment that the front of her nightgown had been soaked by the water from the pitcher. It was clinging wetly to her full breasts, molding to their shape and revealing the dark circles of her nipples through the white cotton, rendered almost transparent by its dampness.

“I—uh—” Cleybourne could not seem to tear his gaze away from her gown, and for one frozen moment, Jessica could not move, either.

“He went that way!” Gabriela cried, unaware of the sudden tension in the air, and pointed toward the back staircase.

Jessica recovered her senses enough to pull the damp gown away from her skin, blushing furiously as she said, “I, uh, I had better change.”

She turned and hurried into the nursery just as Rachel reached them. Behind her, she heard Cleybourne leave in a hurry, heading for the back stair, and Rachel saying to Gabriela, “Oh, you poor thing. You’re shaking like a leaf! What happened?”

Jessica ran to the safety of her own room, closing the door behind her, and hurriedly stripped off her wet gown. She was sure her face was bright red; she felt as if it were on fire. She threw the gown onto the floor and pulled on the dressing gown, which she had thrown across the chair before she went to bed. Oh, why hadn’t she thought to put it on before she went out to attack the intruder?

She knew she must have looked like a brazen hussy, standing there before the duke, as good as naked to his eyes. She closed her eyes, feeling weak in the knees as she remembered the way he had looked at her, the sudden burst of hunger and heat in his dark eyes. He had looked at her in a way no other man ever had—his eyes so fierce and fiery. Of course, she reminded herself, he had certainly seen more of her than any other man ever had, either.

And the way he had looked at her had made her feel so, so…

She shivered, remembering the warmth that had invaded her loins, the sudden fullness and tenderness in her breasts. She blushed all over again, just thinking about it. She could only hope that he had had no idea of the sensations his look had aroused in her.

How could she face him again? She knew that she had to; in fact, she had to go right back out there now. He would want an explanation for what had happened. And she had to take care of Gabriela, as well. She could not hide here in her room the rest of the night, hoping it would all go away.

Jessica tightened the sash on her dressing gown and straightened her shoulders. Firmly overriding her reluctance, she opened her door and stepped out into the main room of the nursery. She stopped short. Cleybourne was standing in the middle of the room, looking about. He had lit an oil lamp and set it on the table. He turned at the sound of her entrance.

Richard thought he had braced himself to see Jessica again. He was embarassed at the way he had acted before, stunned into incoherence by the sight of her breasts, naked beneath the wet gown. A man had broken into her room, no doubt scaring her tremendously, and all he could do was stand there and gape at her, lust roaring through him. She must think him a cad, a lecher, to have reacted in that way.

He had returned to speak to her, determined to quell his desire, to be calm and in command, and show her that he was not the lustful creature she must think him. But one look at her had destroyed all his good intentions. She had taken off the wet gown and put on a dressing gown. She was fully covered now, except for the small V of skin that showed above the robe. However, that little expanse of flesh where the white cotton gown would normally be was enough to tell him that she was naked beneath the dressing gown. Just the thought sent heat spearing down through him. His mouth was suddenly dry, and for a moment he could not speak. All he could think of was untying her sash and pushing back the sides of the robe.

“Well, um, Miss Maitland.” He struggled for words.

“Yes, Your Grace?” Jessica tried to still the tingling that started in her at the sight of him. In her embarrassment before, she had scarcely noticed Cleybourne’s own state of dress. His shirt hung outside his breeches, open, a wide strip of his skin showing all the way down to the waistband of the trousers. She was aware of the hard ridges of bone and muscle, and the tan smoothness of the skin lying over them, the narrow line of dark, curling hair that crept down toward his waist. His hair was tousled from sleep, thick and black, and her fingers itched to reach up and smooth it back.

“What…what happened here?”

“I am afraid I know little more than you,” Jessica replied, fighting to keep her voice even. “I heard a noise and awoke. I heard more noise, and I went to the door and looked out. I saw…someone standing outside Gabriela’s door.”

“What was he doing?”

“I’m not sure. Nothing that I could see. Listening, perhaps? Or maybe he was about to open the door. I don’t know. All I thought was that Gabriela was in danger. So I grabbed the pitcher from the washbasin and ran out at him and hit him.”

His brows rose. “You hit him? You ran toward him?”

“Yes, of course. Where else would I have run?”

“Well, away, one would think.”

“And leave Gabriela with him?”

“You could have gotten help.”

Jessica looked back at him levelly. “Would you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why would I?”

“Because you are a woman. You might have been hurt.”

“Anyone might have been hurt, including you. Being a woman does not make one a coward.”

“I didn’t say—” His mouth tightened. “You are remarkably adept at twisting my words, Miss Maitland. I was—oh, blast! Never mind.”

“Where is everyone?” Jessica asked. “Where’s Gabriela?”

“Rachel took her downstairs to the kitchen for a soothing cup of hot chocolate. I sent the servants out to look around the house, see if they could locate where he went in or out. Provided he came from outside.”

“And do you think he came from outside? Or in?”

“Meaning, was it Vesey? I don’t know. I sent servants to his room, ostensibly to check on his well-being, but even if he is there, it won’t prove that he wasn’t the man in here. During the commotion, he could easily have slipped back to his room and pretended to be asleep before the servants got there. You struggled with him. Do you think it was Vesey?”

“I’m not sure. It might have been. He was taller than I, but not as tall as you. He might have been Lord Vesey’s height. I could not see his features. It was dark, and he had something tied around his face, hiding his features.” She shivered a little. “It was awful, as if his face were blank, nothing, except the little holes for eyes. I think that was the scariest thing about him.”

He came forward. “I’m sorry. I—it’s inexcusable that this should happen while you are under my protection.” His face darkened. “If this was Vesey, he will regret it, I assure you. Whoever he is, he will regret it.”

He stopped, looking down at her. He raised his hand as if to touch her cheek, then let it fall back to his side. “Are you all right? Did he harm you in any way?”

“No. Actually, I think I did more harming than he did.”

A smile flickered across his lips. “That does not surprise me. One would have thought Vesey would have known better than to cross you.”

Her eyes were huge and blue, her pale skin luminous even in the dim light. Bright curls tumbled down around her head. Richard thought about touching one of those curls, of sinking his hands into the springing mass. He could almost feel them winding around his fingers, soft as silk, clinging.

With great effort, he tore his gaze away. “I’ll just check your rooms.”

He walked to Gabriela’s door and looked in, then turned and went across to the open door of Jessica’s room and went inside. Jessica trailed after him. Richard glanced around the room, taking in the small, barren place, the narrow bed, the small chest and hard chair. He had not remembered the governess’s room as being so small and spare. He resented the fact that she had to live in such a room, and it bothered him even more that he was responsible for her being there.

“Tomorrow I shall have the servants make up rooms for both of you closer to me.” He stopped, then added hastily, “So that you will be safer. It’s dangerous, the nursery being so far from everyone else. I can’t think why they put you here to begin with.”

Jessica felt relatively sure that they had been put here precisely because Cleybourne wished them as far away from him as possible, but she refrained from pointing that out.

“Tonight I shall put one of the footmen outside the nursery door to make sure nothing else happens,” he went on.

“Thank you. That is very kind of you.”

“I am not really the ogre you think I am.” He hesitated. “I—”

Cleybourne reached a hand toward her, and this time, almost as if it moved without his volition, his hand touched her hair. It was as soft as he had imagined, and the feel of it beneath his fingertips made his loins tighten. He swallowed, trying to assemble some sort of coherent thought. He did not know what it was about this woman. She seemed to be able to rob him of all thought, no matter what the situation, to leave him floundering in a morass of emotions and sensations.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide and faintly surprised. Her lips parted a little, soft and pink. His gaze fell to her mouth, and his mind was filled with kissing her. Hunger swelled in him, hard and throbbing, as he thought of tasting those lips, touching her…. He tried to look away, tried to take his hand from her silken curls and move back, but he could not. Instead he leaned forward, his fingers curling into her hair, crushing the curls, and his mouth came down to hers.

He could feel the little intake of air that moved across her lips before his own lips touched hers. He could smell the sweet scent of lavender that clung to her. Richard trembled a little, his body racked by opposing forces, torn between guilt and the fierce desire that snaked through his loins. Then his lips brushed hers, and he was lost to all else but that hunger.

H
is lips pressed into hers, gently at first, tasting and teasing, experiencing the velvety softness of her mouth, the honeyed taste. Then he shuddered, rocked by the force of need pouring through him, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her up hard against his body, burying his lips in hers. Urgent and hard, his mouth merged with hers, demanding all that he desired.

Jessica went limp against him, stunned by the flood of sensations rushing through her. No man had ever looked at her that way or kissed her so. She had never felt a man’s hard body pressed against hers all the way up and down, so that her breasts were flattened against his chest and her abdomen cradled his masculinity. His mouth consumed hers, his tongue arousing her in ways she had never imagined. She trembled and clung to him, lost in a tumultous world of pleasure.

A low, animal noise sounded deep in his throat, and his hands moved around and up her front, easing between their bodies and cupping Jessica’s breasts. He stroked her breasts through the material of her dressing gown, moving the satin against her skin. Jessica’s nipples hardened and tingled, and her breasts felt swollen and aching. Another ache was growing deep inside her, hot and tender, and she squeezed her legs together, trying to ease it. She was aware, faintly shocked, that she wanted to feel his hands upon her naked body, yet she knew instinctively that that would not ease the ache between her legs, only make it grow more.

Richard’s mouth shifted on hers, bringing another wave of pleasure to her, and one hand slid over her breast and beneath the dressing gown. His fingertips moved lightly over her bare breast, arousing the tender skin, exploring the heavy, luscious globe and finding the hardening center. He took the little nub between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed gently. Jessica jerked in surprised pleasure, and a little moan escaped her. She had never felt anything like this, never dreamed of it, yet she found herself hungry for it, eager….

He tore his mouth from hers, kissing his way across her face and down her throat. His hands went beneath her dressing gown, pushing away the sides so that it opened, the sash slipping apart and uncurling. He nibbled at her throat, kissing and laving it tenderly with his tongue, while his hands roamed down her body, gliding over breasts and stomach and hips, curving back over her rounded buttocks. His fingertips dug into the firm cheeks, startling a gasp from Jessica, and pressed her up into his own hardness.

Raw hunger seized Jessica, and she trembled. She wanted something desperately—she wasn’t sure what—and she let out a low groan. “Please…oh, please, don’t…”

She was not sure what she was asking for, whether it was for him to stop the pleasure so intense it was almost pain or to give her a chance to pause for a moment and gather her scattered, wild emotions, or simply for him not to stop what he was doing until she had reached the unknown thing her body sought so achingly. Whatever it was, the word struck him like a blow. He went still, then pulled back with a sharp, indrawn breath.

“Sweet bloody hell!”

Cleybourne took a long step backward. He stared at her for a moment, his chest rising and falling with harsh, ragged breaths. “Oh, God, what am I doing?”

Abruptly he turned and strode out of her room.

Jessica stared after him for a moment, trembling all over. With shaking hands, she pulled the sides of her dressing gown together, wrapping her arms around herself to keep it closed. She sank down onto her bed, her knees suddenly too unsteady to stand.

She knew she must pull herself together. Gabriela and Lady Westhampton would be back at any moment, and she must not let them find her in this state. But neither could she imagine how she could possible resume a normal air. What had just happened was too startling, too bizarre. Jessica could not remember feeling anything this intense, even with her fiancé many years ago. It was not love, she told herself; after all, she didn’t even know the man. It was lust, she supposed, nothing more, but never before had she realized that lust could be so powerful.

Whatever it was, at this moment, she felt as though her life would never be the same.

Seething with sexual frustration, guilt and self-hatred, Richard stormed down the stairs and along the hall straight to Vesey’s bedroom.

“Vesey!” he roared, turning the knob of Vesey’s door and charging in.

Only Leona was in the bed, and she sat up with a shriek at Richard’s entrance. When she saw who it was, she smiled, saying, “Why, Richard, what a pleasant surprise. I had not expected you to visit me in quite such a forceful way.”

“Where the devil is—” Richard began, looking around the room, then spotted Lord Vesey, lying on the couch, clutching a blanket to him, with a terrified look on his face. “I should have guessed she wouldn’t let you in the bed with her.”

He stalked over to where Vesey lay and reached down, grasping him by the front of his nightgown and jerking him to his feet. There was something decidedly comical about the look of Lord Vesey in a nightgown that revealed his spindly calves and with a silk nightcap on his head, but Richard was too upset to see the humor.

“Damn you, Vesey! I ought to tear your heart out!”

“B-b-but why? What have I done to you?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t care if you sneaked into that child’s room? Did you think I would just look the other way if you tried to have your perverted way with her? Or did you think that you could actually steal her away right from under my nose?”

“In your own house?” Vesey sounded genuinely shocked. “You must be mad! I’m not stupid, you know.”

“That’s debatable.” With a sigh of disgust, Richard pushed him back down onto the couch. “That is the only reason I haven’t torn you apart already. Usually you are too inclined toward self-preservation to try something like that.” He paused, then went on. “The hell of it is, if it wasn’t you, who could it have been?”

Vesey shrugged. “I don’t know. Some servant, maybe, who took a liking to that governess. She was something of a looker tonight, wasn’t she?”

Richard swung back to Vesey, his face black with rage. “I don’t even want to hear mention of her on your tongue again. Do you understand me?”

Vesey’s eyebrows went up. “I say, Cleybourne, don’t tell me you’ve developed a tendresse for the wench yourself.”

“Damn you!” Richard curled his hand into the front of Vesey’s nightshirt and hauled him up again, twisting his hand so that the collar of the shirt bit into Vesey’s throat. “You are skating on the edge, Vesey, I warn you. Not everyone is the sort of selfish, disgusting lecher that you are. Miss Maitland is under my protection, just as Gabriela is. And I am telling you, if you do anything to either one of them—anything—I will not rest until I have hunted you down and broken each and every one of your bones separately. Am I clear?”

“Eminently,” Vesey squeaked out.

“All right, then.” Richard opened his hand, and Vesey plopped back onto the couch.

Richard turned and strode out of the room without a backward glance, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Well,” Vesey said, rubbing his throat gently, “I seem to have struck a nerve there, haven’t I?”

“Of course you did, you imbecile,” Leona said from the bed. “Intimating that a man like Cleybourne would be interested in that dowdy governess. What an idiotic notion.”

Lord Vesey cast his wife a sardonic glance. “Yes, of course, my dear. How foolish of me.”

Immediately after breakfast the next morning, a pair of maids arrived at the nursery and began carrying down Jessica’s and Gabriela’s things to the floor below, where all the main bedrooms were located. Baxter had given Gabriela a lovely, cheerful room that looked out over the driveway to the castle. It had three tall windows that let in plenty of light, and its furniture was daintier than most pieces in the castle, done in white and gold. There was a secretary on which Gabriela could do her schoolwork, and a small sofa against the opposite wall, not to mention a wardrobe, chest and vanity that were more than enough for her needs.

Jessica’s room, across the hall, was smaller and contained less furniture, but it was quite cozy and welcoming, with a comfortable chair beside the window that looked like a perfect spot to curl up and read a book. There was a vanity table with a nice, large mirror above it and, best of all, a lovely fireplace with a fire burning merrily in it.

“It’s beautiful,” she told Baxter honestly. “It is very kind of the duke to put me in here.”

“His Grace is the kindest of gentlemen, you’ll find,” Baxter said with a smile. “Oh, I almost forgot. He asked me if I would tell you that he wishes to see you in his study this morning.”

“Oh.” Jessica’s pulse picked up its pace. “Of course.”

After the butler left, Jessica rushed to her new mirror. She straightened her hair and pinned a few recalcitrant curls that had already managed to escape. She smoothed her dress down. There was nothing she could do about it, she thought, and sighed. As long as she was a governess, she could hardly go about in finery. What she had worn last night had really been too attractive and expensive to wear even for a formal dinner. Only the fact that Lady Westhampton had urged it on her had made it acceptable.

Sternly she shook off her thoughts. She should not be worrying about how she looked, she reminded herself. She was a governess here, that was all. The fact that Cleybourne had kissed her last night meant nothing. She could not allow it to mean anything. What had happened last night had been wildly abnormal behavior. She never should have let a man kiss her like that, especially her employer! Granted, it had been more pleasurable than anything she had ever experienced, or that she had ever imagined experiencing. She had been taken completely, overwhelmingly, by surprise.

But it would not, could not, continue.

Yet she could not quell the leap of hope and excitement within her chest as she went down the stairs to Cleybourne’s study. The door was closed when she approached it, so she rapped lightly and waited for Cleybourne’s invitation to enter.

She found him standing behind his desk, as if he had just risen from his chair, and his fingertips touched the desk, as if bracing him. His face was drawn in stern lines, and the anticipation inside her fluttered to its death.

Jessica came to a stop in front of his desk, facing him with all the calm she could muster.

“Miss Maitland, I, ah, I have asked you here this morning because I feel that I—” He half turned from her, fixing his gaze on a spot across the room. “I must apologize to you for my behavior last night. It was inexcusable.” He swung away, as if he could no longer bear to stand still, and began to pace back and forth across the room, talking as he went. “What I did was terribly wrong. You are my employee. Living in this house under my protection. I cannot tell you how sorry I am that I—I, took advantage of our situation.”

Jessica went cold, the chill spreading from the center of her being outward. She could not even have said what she had been secretly hoping would happen. She was not naive enough to have thought he would declare his undying passion for her. Still, to see him so stern and controlled, so cool toward her, pierced her to the quick. Of course a gentleman would apologize for having grabbed her and kissed her like that, but this…she knew that this was something far more than an apology. Cleybourne did not just regret having acted in an ungentlemanly manner. She could see in his drawn face, in his inability to even look her straight in the eye, that he regretted, too, the emotions, the desire, that had caused him to behave so. He hated the fact that he had wanted her, despised his passion for her.

“I promise you that it will not happen again,” he went on.

Jessica linked her hands together. They were as cold as ice. She could think of nothing to say. She lowered her eyes, unable any longer to look at him, to have to witness him steadfastly refusing to meet her gaze. What they had done last night obviously disgusted him. Perhaps she disgusted him, too, for the wanton way she had responded to his kisses and caresses. She remembered thinking only minutes ago that she had acted in a way no lady should. She wondered if now he no longer thought she was a lady, if he found her promiscuous and bold.

She thought, too, of the way he had called her his “employee.” That rankled, as well. He did not think of her as an equal, but as someone who worked for him. Of course, she was not his equal in rank, and she could see now that it had been wrong of her to let Lady Westhampton’s easy friendlines deceive her into feeling that she was on the same level as they were.

She was not, and she never could be. And, of course, it had been entirely foolish of her to let herself dream that last night had meant something. Cleybourne was a man still in love with his dead wife, and even if he were not, there could never be the hope of anything between them, at least anything honorable. Though her own family was good enough, she was only a governess, scarcely someone a duke would marry. And, even worse, her good name was stained irrevocably by her father’s scandal. So the passion of last night, if allowed to continue, could lead to nothing but being his mistress, and she could not live as that. Nor was Cleybourne the sort of man who would turn an unsullied female into his mistress: he was too much of a gentleman.

It had been unbelievably foolish of her, she told herself, to have given way to her desire last night, and she should be grateful that the duke was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of her moral laxity.